Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 145(@200wpm)___ 116(@250wpm)___ 97(@300wpm)
I scowl. “I did not.”
“You did, you ghosted her hard,” Bran agrees, leading the way into the massive living room where a fire is crackling in the equally massive hearth. Two story, floor-to-ceiling picture windows look out onto the mountains and Jingle Bell Junction below, the snow looking so charming on the evergreen trees and church steeple, you’d never guess how much damage the storm has caused.
Power lines were damaged, two snowplows ended up in the ditch, and an asshole from New York City broke Holly Jo Hadley’s heart.
“I did not,” I insist again, not sure who I’m arguing with at this point—Bran or myself. “She was in the bathroom, we needed to leave before the mayor filed property damage charges. It was as simple as that. I’m sure she understood.”
Bran snorts. “Right. Like Taylor Swift understood when that guy stopped calling but kept her scarf.”
I scowl as I collapse onto the couch beside the fire. “Who? And what?”
“She not only wrote a song; she made an extended cut years later,” Bran says, ignoring my questions as he moves to hover over me, like an avenging angel come to take vengeance for my romantic sins.
“And a music video,” Ashton adds, crossing her arms over her chest. “A really long and sad one that made me cry.”
“Everything makes you cry,” I snap, and immediately regret it. “I’m sorry,” I offer before Elliot or Bran can chastise me on our baby sister’s behalf. “I know it’s normal to cry. And healthy. I’m just…tired.”
“And ripe with toxic masculinity you inherited from Dad,” Ashton adds.
“I think that’s rotten cheese,” Elliot adds, sniffing me over the back of the couch.
I bat him away, muttering, “It’s whipped cream.”
Bran’s brows shoot up and Elliot hums low in his throat as he circles around to stand beside him. “Care to share more about that with the class?” he asks.
Standing side-by-side, they could be twins. Both two inches taller than my six feet, both muscular and strong and tanned from being outside living their best lives, both with darker, wavy brown hair like our mother’s, instead of the light brown of our father’s. Looking at them, I can’t help feeling proud that they’re nothing like me.
I may have failed at being a different man than our father, but my hard work has helped set my brothers and sister free. They’ll all have happy lives filled with love and laughter.
And maybe I can live vicariously through them, especially during the holidays.
I’m suddenly not bothered by the fifteen-foot tree in the corner or the garland over the mantel. Even the plaid reindeer arranged on the coffee table don’t cause the slightest bit of irritation. That is Holly Jo’s gift to me, I suppose, a fresh set of eyes with which to see the season, a window into the magic everyone else has always seemed to see so clearly.
And what have you given her in return?
The thought makes my empty stomach turn inside out and all the color go out of the world.
“You know one of the best things about this time of year?” Ashton asks, her voice gentler than it was before. “People are far more willing to forgive. Especially something like a minor ghosting.”
“It wasn’t minor,” I say, my voice rough. “It was mean and cowardly and wrong. I just…didn’t know how to say goodbye.”
“Because you don’t want to say goodbye,” Elliot says.
“And you shouldn’t say goodbye,” Bran piles on. “I’ve never seen you look at a woman the way you looked at her. I didn’t think you were capable of looking at anyone like that.”
“Love works miracles,” Ashton says, as if that sums up everything.
“It’s far more complicated than that,” I say, surging to my feet to pace beside the windows, doing my best not to glance down at the town or the Victorian silhouette of town hall, dark against the fallen snow. “And love doesn’t happen overnight. Not to logical, rational—”
“Oh, shut up, and go take a shower, you stink,” Ashton says, shocking me into silence. My sister is never harsh with family, especially not me. I’m more like a father to her than a big brother and she’s always treated me accordingly. “And then we’ll have breakfast and discuss the best way to win Holly back. She’s probably going to be at the tree lighting ceremony tonight so we can try to track her down there.”
“She’s going to be taking pictures in the square this afternoon before that,” I hear myself say. “She’s photographing pets with Santa.”
Ashton beams at me, like I just made all her secret dreams come true, and my newly expanded heart beats faster. “That’s perfect. We’ll leave right after lunch.”
“But I don’t know what to say,” I stammer, digging my heels into the carpet as Bran grips my shoulder, turning me toward the grand staircase in the entryway.